Blown It All Sky High
by Cassandra Elise
Summary: Steed Becomes a Rocket Man. Tara Takes a Trip to the Moon. The FINALE is here. Updated 7/08/03. This Chap. is a little angsty *and* a little cheerful! Steed and Tara return to Earth with help from an unknown friend. Reviews always appreciated.
1. Oops!

NOTE: I do not know everything there is to know about rockets. Under the circumstances, I don't think it matters. After all, the actual writers for the Avengers didn't knew everything either. So if something seems so incredibly implausible, I must remind you that this story is meant to be enjoyed and not analysed until the whole story loses its charm. Thank You.  
  
ANOTHER NOTE: I've taken the actual dialogue from the tag of the Avengers episode "Bizarre," and incorporated it into my teaser. If anything looks familiar, that's why.  
  
The AVENGERS  
  
A large rocket stood in the heart of London, an incongruity that baffled all bystanders. Inside the massive structure, a curvaceous woman in a white dress with a lace collar and cuffs stood examining the rocket's controls. A tall man in a satin, plum tuxedo flitted from one control to another. He was so intent, he didn't noticed that the lady was following him.  
  
The two simultaneously peered out of the window then gazed at each other. "Like it?" the distinguish man, Steed, inquired hopefully.  
  
"Very, complicated, isn't it?" the woman replied.  
  
"Steed? Tara?" a husky male voice shouted from outside.  
  
Steed exhaled in aggravation as he murmured to Miss Tara, "Uh oh, bit of a squash!" To the other male he managed to say politely, "Mother!" He and Tara efficiently assisted the obese man with the woman's title in climbing into the rocket.  
  
Mother was the head of a spy organisation, where Steed and Tara both worked as very successful and celebrated agents. Due to an injury, Mother rode in a wheelchair. It also helped him move around without using his chubby legs. "I say," he began, "splendid achievement, Steed! Splendid!"  
  
"Thank you very much." Steed was very much in earnest with that remark.  
  
Mother steered his wheelchair around in a semi-circle, drinking in the flashing lights from the numerous buttons. His wheelchair barely missed colliding with a bolted down table laden with a bucket of ice, champagne, and several glasses. "Hard to believe you assembled it yourself."   
  
Steed was not one to be modest, so Tara was surprised when he replied, "Well the instruction booklet is very explicit."  
  
Mother was in total awe of the sky rocket, and awe was not one of the emotions he usually displayed. Once again, Miss Tara King wondered why her companions were acting uncharacteristically. "Yes, but a thing like this-and in your own backyard-it must have been expensive," Mother stammered.  
  
Steed chuckled almost ruefully. "I saved up a bit." He scanned the red interior and multicoloured lights. "I've always wanted one of these."   
  
Mother swerved his wheelchair to the exit and was about to roll out when Tara checked him. "Where are you going?"   
  
Mother informed them that he was going outside. "Outside?" Steed repeated incredulously as he grabbed his superior's arm.  
  
"Yes, I want to take a snap of it for my album."  
  
Amused at Mother's hobby, Steed and Miss King smiled as he expertly wheeled to the front of the rocket. His camera, which had been hanging around his neck, was quickly removed and used. John Steed and Tara watched this whole procedure from the window.  
  
Tara finished gazing at Mother's antics and asked, "Where do you light the blue paper?"  
  
Steed chuckled knowingly, his hands twisting several dials. "You don't; all you do is press that button there."  
  
A red button was positioned right underneath the window. Impulsively, Tara pushed the knob, while inquiring, "This one?"   
  
"Yes!"  
  
All of a sudden, there was an explosion of sound and colour. The rocket shook and started to elevate off the ground, tipping Miss King and Steed off balance. "No!" Steed cried in alarm, but it was too late. The rocket was ascending at a rapid speed on its way to space.  
  
Meekly, Tara spoke over the clamour of the engines. "How do you stop it?"  
  
Steed paused to meditate then smiled ironically. "That part of the kit arrives next week."   
  
Tara mouthed the word "oh," her eyes not daring to meet Steed, the man she loved.   
  
Over the intercom, Mother's boisterous voice bellowed, "Steed, I demand you bring that thing down at once!" Steed had forgotten he had given a portable intercom box to Mother; it was like a walkie-talkie, except the rocket was the other end.  
  
In mock annoyance, Steed repeated, "Demand?" Even as he spoke, his arms were reaching for the champagne bottle. He opened it with one quick movement of the wrists.  
  
Anxious, but still retrieving two glasses for a drink, Tara questioned, "Can you get us down?" The alcohol was sure to soothe her nerves, even if her comrade's news did not.  
  
Steed chuckled as he answered, "Eventually, yes." To himself, he added, "At least I think I can."  
  
If Tara heard his second comment, she chose to ignore it. Instead she spoke with a slight tremor in her voice. "Eventually?"  
  
John Steed poured them each a glass of champagne before replying, "There's no hurry," he stopped to stare into her pale, blue eyes, "is there?"  
  
Miss King relaxed as she realised what Steed was implying. "None at all," she assured him, her voice sultry. The duo had been inches apart, but somehow they managed to slink even closer, their eyes interlocked, daring the other to make the first move. The champagne was all but forgotten.  
  
Mother had been staring agape at the receding rocket. Eyes still bulging, he pried them away for a moment to gaze at a large crowd that had gathered since the rocket's lift-off. In the midst of the group was his personal assistant Rhonda, silent, extremely tall, and very blonde. She actually made a surprised gurgle in the back of her throat as she spotted the dot that was presumably the rocket.   
  
Mother raised his voice to the mass and declared, "They'll be back; you can depend on it." Suddenly, he realised what dreadful mischief his two friends could get into up in space. "They're unchaperoned up there!"   
  
Blown it All Sky High  
  
Steed Becomes a Rocket Man  
  
Tara Takes a Trip to the Moon  
  
Tara stared dreamily at the forty plus year old that was ogling her shapely figure. "Oh, Steed, I never thought we'd be alone together." She reached out to touch his cheek and was almost knocked off her feet as the rocket rumbled uncontrollably. Miss King managed to grab the table for support just in time.  
  
Steed looked puzzled as he answered, "What about when we've been alone together at our flats?" He gripped the screwed down table with an iron strength.  
  
"Yes, but there was always the chance that someone, or something would interrupt us. Not up here!" Tara giggled flirtatiously, bracing herself for the next vibration.   
  
"Oh, I see your point, TARA!" The last word was more of a scream, for Steed was pushed into one of the control panels by the rocket's great turbulence. "This must be why all astronauts remain sitting during the launch!" he shouted.   
  
Quickly he grabbed Tara's arm and pushed her into one of the two seats onboard. Her champagne glass was knocked from her hand, shattering into incalculable pieces on the floor. The champagne that had been in the glass splashed on her dress. After the initial shock of staining her brand new gown, Miss King was able to scrutinise her surroundings.  
  
"A rocket built for two, eh?" she asked coyly.  
  
Mr. Steed struggled into the other chair, buckled and nodded his head. "Now you'd better buckle up, because according to my manual, there is no gravity in space."  
  
"What's that supposed to mean?" Tara demanded as she strapped herself in.  
  
"It means that all objects that are not tied down will float!"  
  
Tara was about to comment on the absurdity of the idea when she noticed that the rocket was no longer shaking. "We must be in space!" She began unfastening her safety belt, so she could get to the window and look out.  
  
"No, Tara, remember what I told you about zero gravity?" Steed's warning was a second too late; Miss King had freed herself and was experiencing first hand the world of no gravity.  
  
She rose off the ground, her dress billowing upwards. Hastily, she pushed the skirt down, only to have it float up again. "This is utterly ridiculous!" she ejaculated as her body floated toward the table with champagne. "I can't control my movements!"  
  
"Well, maybe if you weren't in that frilly dress . . ." Steed began.  
  
"You told me to dress up nicely because you had finished building the rocket and wanted to celebrate. You didn't tell me that there was no gravity up here! I'm a spy; I don't learn about these things unless they're important to a case. The least you could have done before I came over to your flat was to tell me all those details about life in space."  
  
Angered, Steed replied, "If you hadn't pushed that infernal button, we would still be on earth!"  
  
"Well, why'd you build this thing if you weren't planning to fly it?"  
  
Miss King's voice had reached an irritated pitch. She tried to grab on to something to steady herself, but she only ended up knocking over the champagne bottle, which was now soaring nearby her along with the remaining glasses and ice bucket. As soon the bottle tipped over, the liquid dumped out and began floating as well. In fact the champagne had turned into little liquid beads! "Now we have no champagne, and I'm stuck up here in the rafters!" She clutched her skirt, managing to keep it down.  
  
"Hey, at least you didn't get the rest of the champagne on your dress!" Steed joked. The glare he received was enough to make him realise it was not the time nor place to make wisecracks. Sighing, he unfastened himself and drifted out of his chair. With all the effort he could muster, he tried to move toward Agent King. However, his energy was soon spent and he allowed himself to sail across the rocket in the opposite direction of Tara.  
  
The ice bucket bumped into Tara, and she tried to move it out of the way. In order to carry out this task, she removed her hands from her skirt. Immediately, the skirt fluttered upwards, revealing more than she thought was necessary. Tara King shrieked, somehow propelled herself backwards, and rammed into the wall. Her hair, which had been twisted in many sections and pinned around her head, had come partly undone.  
  
Steed raised an amused eyebrow at her degrading predicament, but politely turned around so Tara could get herself together. He started practising how to manoeuvre without the help of gravity. "It's like swimming," he called to her over his shoulder, "except it's through the air." He demonstrated by doggy paddling a few centimetres.   
  
"That sounds extremely helpful," Miss King mumbled. Nevertheless, she tried the backstroke in the air, and found that she was able to travel a little more gracefully. She didn't get very far, but that was beside the point. After a few minutes, she felt herself relaxing. "This is quite fun when you get the hang of it!" she cried.  
  
Steed whirled around to see what she was doing. Tara was performing the sidestroke, her skirts were in the air again, and her hair was slowly unravelling. But the smile on her face was sweet and sincere, and Steed thought she'd never looked more beautiful.  
  
************  
  
  
  
"This is Mother calling Steed, Mother calling Steed. Do you read me?" Mother bellowed into his end of the intercom. He addressed Rhonda with the inquisition, "Why doesn't he answer? We had a clean reception just a minute ago."   
  
Suddenly, Rhonda's blue eyes grew melancholy. Mother scoffed at her before replying, "I know what you're thinking, and I can tell you with utmost certainty that they did not crash. It would be all over the news if they had." Mother thought briefly then demanded, "Get me to the nearest television."  
  
They were still outside Steed's apartment complex with a cluster of strangers. The nearest TV was in Steed's own flat, so Rhonda hurriedly wheeled Mother there. Once they were situated inside, Mother rolled himself over to one of Steed's newer acquisitions, the television set. He switched it on to the news programme, where a reporter was speaking about the drought they were having.  
  
All at once the anchorman cleared his throat and began, "We have a breaking news report. An unidentified rocket made an unexpected lift-off in the area of Stable Mews. Our best scientists are fairly certain it is a rival ship, and they're hoping to be able to talk rationally with the enemy. If the enemy refuses to cooperate, who knows what might happen.   
  
"Eyewitnesses have confirmed that there were at least two people in the rocket at its time of lift-off. So far contact with the passengers has been impossible, since the communication system seems to be shut off. Why the enemy has decided to test their rocket in our country is an enigma to all high officials at this point. Some think it is a Communistic plot-"  
  
Mother turned off the telly before he could hear the rest. "This is appalling. Nobody has been able to contact them, especially not me! When I think of poor little Tara-and Steed-all alone up there, I get emotional!"  
  
Rhonda stared at him disbelievingly. She seemed to say, "You never get emotional."  
  
"Take me to spy headquarters at once. We must speak with Father, Grandma, and possibly even," Mother gulped, "Grandpa."  
  
***********  
  
At the intervening time, over by Primrose Hill, another person was watching the news. As soon as the special report ended, a slender hand clicked a high tech remote control. The telly turned off, and a slim and tall woman rose from her seat. She entered her bedroom and crumpled onto one of the twin size beds.   
  
She didn't need to think about him. She had almost succeeded in living a normal life without him, playing the role of doting wife to a man-a man who was home 1/3 of the time. She rolled over onto her side, her auburn locks caressing her cheek before lying to rest over her entire face.   
  
"Steed, how could you be so careless?" she whispered. Yes, she knew it was Steed up in that rocket. Who else living at Stable Mews had so much free time and money to buy a rocket and ride it? But who was the other person up there with him? "It has to be that lovely creature with the ample bosom, bad fashions, and extremely young face," she muttered to herself.  
  
The sight of the young, brunette woman was enough to make her ill. "No, I won't think about him and her, or that silly rocket. Steed's a spy, and so is his partner. They'll think of a way to get down and to explain this mess to the authorities."  
  
Another voice inside her screamed, "But, Emma, you know people in high places, you know scientists. You could explain everything to them-and help Steed in the process," the voice added.  
  
It was useless to ignore the fact that she missed John Steed. She missed his warm smile, gentlemanly manners, the sometimes naughty jokes he played, his coming to rescue her. Her resolve to stop thinking about him dissolved as she thought of the good times they had had. Determinedly, she rose from the bed and entered her large closet to find something appropriate to wear for visiting rocket scientists.  
  
"Well, my dear friend, it's time I rescue you for a change. I'll get you down from space if it's the last thing I do." To herself she muttered the words that Steed had used earlier, "At least I think I can."  
  
To Be Continued! 


	2. Steed Thinks Emma Searches Mother Yells ...

"Steed, it's absolutely beautiful up here! Look at the earth! It seems so small and inconsequential, yet massive and never-ending all at the same time." Tara and Steed were strapped in their chairs again, gazing out the window at the amazing void and a small sphere that was earth.   
  
Miss King pointed at what appeared to be a long line right in the middle of Asia. "Is that formation mountains?"  
  
Steed peered at it closely before replying, "It looks like it's the Great Wall of China!"  
  
"I never would have imagined that out of all the man made structures in the world, the Great Wall of China would be the only one visible from space."  
  
"It's quite the geography lesson, isn't it?"  
  
Tara leaned her head on his shoulder, her piled hair brushing his face. "I'm glad I could share this moment with you . . . John."  
  
So it was down to John. With a slight tremor in her voice and a gleam in her eye, Tara had forgone British propriety to use his Christian name. Steed was taken aback by this personal addressing, and he had no clue why. He had called her Tara almost from the beginning. After Tara had proven herself quite capable as a spy during the unsavoury business with the maniacs trying to get to outer space, Steed had subtly stopped addressing her as "Miss King," and had called her "Tara." So why did it matter that she had just called him "John"? It seemed only fair and natural; they were friends and partners, partners in business and pleasure.  
  
*It's because she didn't call you that,* he thought. Lovely, witty, sexy, smart Emma Peel, how he missed her. "I will never find another you, John Steed,"*** was the one time when she had addressed him as "John." How he longed for her, how he-  
  
Steed was jolted from his thoughts by Tara, who was playing with his suit coat. She kept murmuring how he must be as hot as she was. Quickly, Steed tried to jump to his feet only to be dragged down by his safety belt. He choked slightly and managed to spurt out, "I've been thinking . . ."   
  
*What the devil am I supposed to say I was thinking about? That I was dreaming of Mrs. Peel?* Steed groped for the right words. "I've been thinking about-about . . ." An inspiration hit him and he continued, "I've been wondering why Mother stopped talking to us over the intercom. He was very loud up to the point when the rough turbulence set in. Then I didn't hear him anymore."  
  
Tara shrugged nonchalantly, indicating she didn't care if Mother had spontaneously combusted. "Maybe he shouted himself hoarse." She leaned forward for a kiss, but Steed suddenly unbuckled himself. Sighing in frustration, Tara leaned back in her chair in defeat.  
  
"I just remembered something," Steed said as he floated to one of the numerous panels with buttons and dials. "When I rammed into this control panel I must have switched off the communication device." After several manoeuvres, the intercom was working again. "Steed to Mother, Steed to Mother, can you hear me?"  
  
There was silence, and then Mother's voice came over the intercom, very relieved and tired. "Steed, old boy, I was about to give up hope on you."  
  
"Don't be such a pessimist!" Steed jokingly upbraided his superior.  
  
"I had a talk with Father and Grandma. They don't like this new predicament at all, Steed. They think you and Tara are giving the ministry a bad name! Your lift-off is all over the news for every rival agency to see! The whole of Great Britain thinks you're the enemy!" Steed's merriment dissolved, and even Tara stopped pouting long enough to listen. "They think it's a Communistic plot, and the government is going to do something drastic if you don't talk to the men at the space station."  
  
"But I can't talk to them; this communication system is not connected to England's space programme," Steed protested.  
  
"What does that mean?" Mother demanded.  
  
"It means only the person with the intercom box, namely you, can talk to the persons on the rocket, namely Tara and I."  
  
"But they think your not responding is a direct insult and disobedience to the Crown!"  
  
Tara spoke, "Mother, couldn't you talk to the scientists and astronauts and assure them that we mean no harm, and that we'd gladly come down if we knew how."  
  
"WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOU DON'T KNOW HOW TO GET DOWN!" Mother bellowed. "You mean you're stuck up there permanently?"  
  
"We are unless someone instructs us on to how to land this thing," Tara snapped. To Steed she asked, "Can a person land a rocket?"  
  
"I don't think so, but I'll have to consult the owner's guide to make sure." Steed searched the air for any floating object that resembled a pamphlet. He spotted it, drifted over to the booklet, and began perusing it with the greatest of interest.  
  
Mother began to use imprecations, and Tara shut him off with an emphatic "click." "Is it just me, or did that conversation accomplished nothing?"  
  
Steed smiled but continued reading while floating through the air. At that moment he was absentmindedly bouncing up and down. First his feet would hit the floor, only to have his body soar up again. It was like a trampoline . . . except there was no way to get off.  
  
************  
  
Emma strode up the door of a stately penthouse and knocked incessantly until a middle-aged man, slightly balding and wearing glasses, opened it. "Mrs. Peel, how lovely to see you again!" said Dr. Hughes, a well known astrophysicist and acquaintance of Emma Peel.   
  
"Dr. Hughes, I heard you were getting your book published."   
  
"Finally! For a while it seemed no one wanted to know about the physical properties of celestial beings and the interaction between matter and radiation." He gestured for her to enter his abode.  
  
As she stepped inside, Emma smiled gregariously, trying to feel as sympathetic as she looked. At the moment, though, she just wanted to discuss Steed's predicament. "Have you heard the news about the unidentified spacecraft?"  
  
"Yes, I did! What is your opinion on this subject, Mrs. Peel? Do you think it is a Communistic plot?"  
  
Emma shook her mane of perfectly flipped hair. "No; in fact, I have reason to believe that the owner of that rocket is my old friend, John Steed."  
  
"I remember meeting that chap once." Dr. Hughes sighed before he asked, "What makes you suspect him? Is he an astronaut, and you just neglected to tell me?"  
  
"Actually, Steed is just very wealthy and very . . . eccentric. I think he always wanted a rocket and decided one day to buy one."  
  
Hughes surveyed his guest with a condescending sneer. "My dear, you can't just buy a rocket like you buy a car. Special scientists design and construct the spacecrafts, and specially trained men pilot them. You can just ask my friend, the acclaimed astronaut-"   
  
"Oh good, you're still in touch with Mr. Whelan? Perhaps he will listen to my story and tell his superiors at the space programme that it is not the enemy up in that rocket but my-"  
  
"Mrs. Peel, you *are* dead serious, aren't you?" Hughes appeared to be quite shocked.  
  
Emma stared at him, holding his gaze for several seconds. "Yes, Dr. Hughes, and I would be forever indebted to you if you could get me to see the officials at the space station. They need to know that Steed would never hurt England."  
  
Dr. Hughes began pacing back and forth nervously. "We need proof that your friend is the man up in that rocket."  
  
"Perhaps Steed left something of importance at his flat. In fact, I'm very surprise that nobody has searched that whole apartment complex for Communists." Emma nodded in the direction of the front door, her chin jutting out in determination. "Shall we go then, doctor?"  
  
"Uh, you go to your friend's home, and if you find anything, just come back for me."  
  
Mrs. Peel rolled her eyes, and it took all of her patience to thank Dr. Hughes for his hospitality. Once outside, she climbed into her Lotus Élan and sat there for several minutes. She was going to Steed's flat. She hadn't been there for a year and several months.   
  
Had the apartment changed any, or were the furnishings still rustic and manly? Was Steed still using his tuba to as a vase, or had he thrown the battered metal instrument out? Did it look like a woman had been spending too much time there? It had always been evident when Emma had been visiting, for she would do the neglected chores to make certain his flat was the tidiest in Great Britain. Had Steed's new partner taken over that job as well? Had she taken over everything Emma had held dear?  
  
"There's only one way to find out," Emma began doggedly. She drove her car as fast as was legal down the streets to 3 Stable Mews.  
  
***********  
  
Mother puffed on a foul-smelling cigar and gulped down another brandy. He eyed the television as if it was an enemy agent that was ready to engage him in a fierce battle. He was back at Steed's flat, having claimed it his office for the week.   
  
A news reporter was updating the fantastic story of Steed and the rocket. "Bystanders who witnessed the rocket's takeoff two hours ago are now declaring that there was a third person involved in this amazing Communistic scheme! A fat man with a moustache was sitting in a wheelchair and is reported as saying, "They'll be back; you can depend on it! They're unchaperoned up there!' Then the man seemingly vanished!   
  
"If you have seen anyone that fits this description, please contact your local police."  
  
"Turn it off, Rhonda!" Mother barked furiously. "How dare they accuse me of being a traitor to the Crown!" He was about to continue his tirade when he heard a sound that would be imperceptible to the normal human ear. Fortunately, Mother had acute hearing, one of the reasons why he often preferred silence to any noise. "Someone's coming down the corridor!"  
  
Emma Peel approached Steed's apartment with a pounding heart. She had tried to compose herself on the trip to his place, but it hadn't worked. As silent and slinky as a cat, she crept up to the door. Once she was assured that no one was watching, she tried the door knob. The door eased open, and she let herself in.  
  
She was astounded when she saw Mother and a tall blonde woman in the middle of the living area. Mother was equally surprised to behold Mrs. Emma Peel, attired in a becoming navy blue dress coat with a white turtleneck underneath and an orange skirt.   
  
"Mrs.-Mrs. Peel, I never thought I would see you again!" Mother exclaimed.  
  
"I could say the same thing about you, Mother," Mrs. Emma retorted smartly. "I suppose you could tell me if the man in the rocket is Steed, or not."  
  
Mother glanced askance at Mrs. Peel as he reluctantly admitted that the man up in space was indeed John Steed. "The confounded man bought this do it yourself kit from the Spies Catalogue of Unique and Expensive Objects. I didn't think he'd really build it; after all, when was he going to have time to take a trip into outer space?"  
  
"So you didn't stop Steed from buying or building the rocket," Emma interrupted his prattling. "And now the mischievous man has left all his responsibilities to dally with a twenty-two year old!" She sighed in exasperation before asking, "Do you have any ideas when he is coming down?"  
  
Mother squirmed uncomfortably in his wheelchair and replied, "He doesn't know how to get down."  
  
Besides grimacing, Mrs. Peel took the news rather well. "Is there any way to communicate with Steed?"  
  
"Yes, we have this intercom system." Mother held up his end of communication device.  
  
Mrs. Peel's eyes brightened, and she nearly shouted, "I now have the proof my friend wants! Mother, you must come with me! We'll show my acquaintance this intercom system, and then he'll take us to see the men at the space programme." She rushed out of the building before Mother could respond.  
  
Mother was eager to get his top spies down from outer space, so he motioned for Rhonda to wheel him out of the flat after Emma Peel. Soon the trio were on their way to Dr. Hughes' penthouse.   
  
************  
  
John Steed stared at the reposing figure of Miss King. He watched her chest rise and fall with each breath; noticed the demure smile that played on her lips, as if she was dreaming of something wonderful; and saw one of her dark locks tumble out of its wild hairdo.   
  
She had been anxious earlier but had hid it so well that she had almost fooled him. But nothing escaped Steed; that was why he was the best. Now she was calm, ready to face the world, or the moon, whatever they bumped into first.  
  
Why had he bought the infernal rocket? What had possessed him to invite Tara to view the blasted thing? He had known the whole point of building the spacecraft was to ride it, but somehow it hadn't registered until they were blasting off. Now they were stuck in a world-no, not a world, a black void-where they didn't belong.  
  
She was so young-he admitted it for the first time. He had denied it for one year, hoping that by the time he was actually able to think about the age difference she wouldn't be so naïve. Now he was alone with his thoughts, and he could see what an ass he had been to flirt with her, to make her believe he loved her madly. He did love Tara, but not in a romantic way.  
  
Steed remembered when he had first met Tara King. He had fallen head over heels for her . . . literally! The then agent trainee had mistaken him for her "prey," and had attacked him, flipping him over! After she had realised her blunder, Tara had pounced on him again, offering him her phone number. Baffled, Steed had taken it, thinking he'd never have to use it, never have to see her again. That was his error.  
  
The very next day she arrived at his door; Mother had sent her. She was so petrified, looking like a deer caught in the headlights of a car. Was she frightened that he would send her away? Steed tried to recall his emotions at seeing the wide eyed Agent 69, but everything was a jumble. Emma-Mrs. Peel had left seconds before, numbing his heart, soul and mind. He vaguely remembered smiling briefly and calling Miss King by her ridiculous pet name, "Tara rah boom di ay." Then he had drunk some tea and tried to have a normal conversation. As he recollected, the discussion had been flat and uncomfortable, and Tara had left almost in tears.   
  
The next time he saw her was when they were working on her first official case. Tara had gone to all lengths to please him, her idol, and even donned a "disguise," namely her blonde wig. Steed felt a pain in his chest as he remembered how the case had ended. They were at his apartment, performing judo. In a desperate attempt to erase Emma Peel from his mind, Steed had thrown the judo book aside and declared they were going to practise. The "practise" included several serious kisses and holds-not judo holds-that sent Tara King into ecstasy.  
  
Thus Steed had created the vicious cycle in which he lived now. He would treat Tara like a daughter, spoiling her with gifts, taking her out to eat and on picnics, and going to the opera. And when she batted her eyes enough, wore revealing clothes, or talked to him in her most sophisticated voice, he treated her like a grown woman. Then he would snap out of his delusions long enough to act like the doting father again, but he never was satisfied. He always craved the relationship where he treated his partner as an equal, not a daughter. So he acted as if Tara was old enough to be an equal, disregarding the fact that there was twenty-five years difference in their age-a long twenty-five years.  
  
He was sixteen years apart from Emma, but she was a mature woman. She had lost her mother and father by the tender age of twenty-one, and her husband shortly afterwards. Tara, fortunately and unfortunately, had never been through anything that traumatic. Her parents were still prosperous farmers, her true love was alive, and she was becoming a great spy.  
  
Steed shut his eyes, trying to shake his tumultuous feelings. If he didn't stop his musing he would drive himself insane. But it was to no avail, for he could not stop thinking of his foolish behaviour. He needed to tell Tara that he was not in love with her, but he realised that it was not the time nor place to discuss it. Since they were alone in a confined area, it would be best to stay on her good side. If Miss King was angry or hurt, she was liable to do something desperate.   
  
As he gazed at the adorable figure of the sleeping Tara, Steed shook his head in defeat. No, he wouldn't tell her the truth, not now-possibly never. It was cruel enough that he had deceived her; there was no need to break her heart.   
  
Staring out at the black void of space, Steed felt the utter desolation of a man who has lived in lies all his life and has discovered his sins too late. He sunk his head into his hands in despair.  
  
To Be Continued!  
  
***Note: This line is taken from my story, "Last Resort." 


	3. An Endless and Blank Road

Emma Peel, Mother and Rhonda stood or sat outside the space station. Dr. Hughes was inside with his friend, Mr. Whelan, discussing Steed's predicament and showing the Mother's communication box. It had taken a bit of coaxing to get Dr. Hughes to the space station. Even after Emma had shown him the intercom box, Hughes was reluctant to go, but he had promised the lady that if she found any proof that it was Steed in that rocket, he would talk to his friend.  
  
That was why Emma found herself pacing up and down the walk outside the space station, hoping that Mr. Whelan would believe his friend and take this news to a higher authority. Mother was likewise, "pacing," meaning Rhonda was wheeling him around in tight circles. Everything was quiet, save the occasional squeak from the wheelchair and Emma's footsteps.  
  
*She's so pale and thin,* Mother thought as he gazed at Mrs. Peel. *Does she eat and sleep at all? Is she pining for Steed? She doesn't look like a sentimental fool who'd put her life at risk over a man, but you can never tell. She almost makes me feel sorry.*  
  
Mother was interrupted from his musings by the sound of a door opening. Dr. Hughes and Whelan stepped out of the building, shaking hands and smiling. Whelan held the transmitting box in his left hand.  
  
Hughes approached Mrs. Peel, saying, "He has agreed to talk to Steed and teach him how to get down. It's bound to be an educational experience for all. Would you care to listen in as he speaks to your friend? Perhaps you can get to say hello to him."  
  
Emma's heart tugged at the thought of speaking with John Steed, but she knew it was better if she didn't bring on any unpleasant memories. He was doubtlessly happy and content with his life. Why should she upset him now by making him remember their old times together? Emma found her voice and replied, "I don't wish to talk to him." Her voice was quivering as she added, "Please, don't tell him that I was part of this rescue mission. I want him to think it was all Mother's doing."  
  
Mother was beginning to feel even guiltier than he had before. Why did this woman have to be so noble and complicate matters? Why did she always have to be considerate of Steed's feelings? Why couldn't she just be selfish and converse with Steed?   
  
Dr. Hughes was taken aback at her abrupt manner but sagaciously said nothing about it. "Very well, Mrs. Peel, I will do as you request."   
  
Emma smiled feebly before walking toward her car. Before entering the vehicle, she turned and added, "Please make certain to inform your superiors and the police that Steed-and Miss King-are not the enemy. I wouldn't want him-and her-to be whisked off to jail the minute he . . . and she stepped on earth." After receiving an affirmative answer, Mrs. Peel left the premises and Steed's life again.  
  
Her soul was in torment on the drive home, half of her wondering what would have occurred if she had talked to him, half of her knowing it was all for the best. How she wished she could forgo British propriety in order to do the things she longed to but knew were not right!   
  
Mrs. Peel gripped her steering wheel with an iron strength and stared at the endless, deserted road ahead of her. "That's how my life is," she murmured to herself, "an endless and blank road."  
  
*************  
  
Steed was chasing Miss King around the rocket with a champagne bottle. He threatened to hit her over the head with it unless she got them down from outer space. On the verge of tears, Tara confessed she didn't know how to run the rocket. In a fit of unadulterated rage, Steed raised the bottle as if to strike . . .  
  
Tara awoke from her vivid nightmare with a gasp. She surveyed the area and spotted Steed floating by the window. He was as solemn and silent as a monk during prayers. Miss King wondered if he was as frightened as her at the possibility of never getting down. They could starve to death, or die of thirst.  
  
Tara realised with chagrin that she was incredibly thirsty. Was there anything to drink; water, juice, more champagne? She unfastened herself from the seat and drifted over to Steed. Tenderly, she wrapped her arms around his waist and placed her chin on his shoulder. "Steed," she began in a whisper, "are we going to make it?"  
  
Ignoring her advances, Steed responded, "Of course we will, my dear, or my name isn't John Steed!" Usually he would have spoken in a flippant tone, but this time his voice was heavy and monotonous.  
  
Tara noted this little change in his mannerisms and became alarmed. "Steed, what's wrong?"  
  
*Nothing, my dear, just your annoying little hug and resting your chin on the same shoulder Emma did,* Steed thought bitterly. Suddenly he came to a startling conclusion: *It's not Tara's fault she's acting romantic. If you had told her a year ago of your true feelings she would have gotten over you by now.*  
  
"You fool, you idiotic, stupid fool," Steed muttered to himself, not caring how redundant he sounded. To Miss King he said, "Nothing is the matter, my dear, nothing at all."  
  
Tara removed her arms and chin from his body as she replied, "You know what I like about you, Steed? You're always the perfect gentleman, even when you're lying to me."  
  
*So Tara's become capable enough as an agent to see through my lies?* Steed thought.  
  
Tara mulled, *He's upset because he's thinking about Mrs. Peel again. He always gets this detached when he's been dreaming over her. Hang the woman!*  
  
These musings would have continued if it hadn't been for the message that came over the intercom. "Mister John Steed, can you hear me?"  
  
Steed became alert at the mention of his name and tried to run to his end of the communication system. Because of the lack of gravity, he almost flew onto his head but caught himself at the last moment. As soon as he reached the device, he bellowed into the mouthpiece, "Yes, I'm listening."  
  
"I'm Mr. Whelan, and I've been commissioned by a chap named Mother to help you get down from space."  
  
"Good, old Mother, I knew he'd come through for us," Steed exclaimed to an excited Tara.  
  
"A Dr. Hughes and several other scientists are explaining the situation to the higher officials. They're going to convince these men that you are perfectly safe and are not a threat to Great Britain," Whelan continued.  
  
"That's very decent of them!" Steed proclaimed.   
  
"Now will you please begin the landing lesson, or whatever you want to call it?" Tara implored the stranger.  
  
"I will begin right away, Miss King," Mr. Whelan responded.  
  
Tara was in raptures as Whelan instructed Steed. "We're going home at last!" she cried   
  
Slowly, the two began their descent to earth.  
  
***********  
  
The next day over by Primrose Hill, Mrs. Peel was watching the news again. A special report on the miraculous return of Tara King and John Steed was being televised to the whole country. Cameramen and reporters were following Steed and Tara as they walked arm and arm down the street to who knows where.   
  
At that minute Tara was commenting, "It was phenomenal up there in space, but I can guarantee you that I never want to leave earth again!"  
  
Steed remarked, "I am very pleased at the cooperation of the astronauts at our space programme. They did not begrudge me for being the first person Britain ever sent into orbit. They even congratulated me on my safe return."  
  
Steed and Miss King were swallowed up by the rabid paparazzi. To conclude the story, an anchorman stepped into view of the camera. "There is still no word as to how Mr. Steed and his female companion, Tara King, came to own a rocket. However, from the little interview we just heard, we can be assured that this Englishman and woman will not be taking any more rides in unidentified spacecrafts."  
  
As soon as the special report ended, a slender hand clicked a high tech remote control. The telly turned off, and Mrs. Peel rose from her seat. She entered her bedroom and crumpled onto one of the two beds. She had done exactly the same thing yesterday, yet it felt like ages ago.  
  
She should feel secure in the fact that Steed was now safe, but Emma was a bundle of nerves. Perhaps it was because she had actually seen Steed's face on the television. Perhaps it was because she had received a call that her husband was returning after another long absence. Perhaps she was agitated because she had seen her Steed linking arms with a beautiful female. Whatever the cause, she was edgy.  
  
"I have at least one consolation," Emma began, as her winning smile spread across her face, "Steed will never be that far from me again!"  
  
*************  
  
Steed and Tara evaded the remaining photographers and reporters and entered an abandoned drugstore. The two descended a staircase to the cellar where Mother was beaming proudly. "I'm delighted that you have returned."  
  
"So am I, Mother," Miss King replied truthfully. She dusted dirt from her white dress before sitting in a chair that was provided for her.  
  
"And you Steed, are you going to be buying any more confounded contraptions out of that Spies Catalogue of Unique and Expensive Objects?"  
  
"Actually, I'm burning every issue when I get home," Steed promised. "The rocket itself was given to the scientists at the space programme."  
  
"Now that this sordid business is behind us, I think we ought to celebrate!" Mother declared.  
  
"You want to celebrate our return?" Tara asked.  
  
"No, I never want to have this escapade mentioned again!" Mother snapped. "Actually, I just want to throw a party to celebrate the many years this ministry has been around. Rhonda has already started sending the invitations to our agents, retired and still active."  
  
Steed's eyes lit up with an intense fire. "Does this mean amateur agents can attend the party, too?"  
  
"Yes, everybody from Dr. Keel to . . . Mrs. Peel is invited! Of course, they might not all come."  
  
"Mrs. Peel will come, you can depend upon it. Keel might not because he's an old married man now." Steed, who had been exhausted several minutes ago was extremely vivacious.  
  
"I think we ought to go home and rest," Tara began, annoyed at Steed's behaviour. She practically dragged the energetic man out of the drugstore.  
  
Once the two spies were gone, Rhonda gazed inquisitively at her employer. "I know you're wondering why I decided to bring Mrs. Peel and Steed together after she was determined never to see him again. It just so happened that I thought to myself-and I'm sure you'll agree- what's the harm in it? She'll never see him again afterwards."  
  
Mother saw no harm in the fete, but that was his mistake. He thought it was the last Mrs. Peel and John Steed would ever meet, when in reality it was going to be the beginning for them. A new beginning of discovery, adventure, and love. But that is another story, a story you can read all about in the form of *Mother Knows Best.*  
  
The End . . . For Now! 


End file.
